


Slow Melt

by sjhw_tolerance (mscorkill)



Series: 2010 Fic Project [1]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/sjhw_tolerance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack’s encounter with the crystal entity changes more than his perspective on the loss of his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Melt

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Season One, from Cold Lazarus to post-Solitudes; the first of the 10+2 in 2010 fic.
> 
> Originally posted January 2010

SLOW MELT

The entity squints in the blinding sunlight, relief and a curious sadness fill it with its return to the home. The other world was so different, full of strange colors and so much sound; its senses had been bombarded, adding more and more data to process and absorb, with every new sensation and feeling filtered through the strange form it had created. Even now, the warmth of its hand, still held firmly in the larger hand of the man, fills it with mystery. So different…yet with so many of the same longings. It walks with the man, the sun warm on their faces, their feet shifting through the sand.

How do these creatures survive, isolated and alone, separate from each other? The brief time it has been separated from the unity is a gaping wound in its soul. The only thing worse was the time before, when the others had come through the gate, bringing chaos and disunity. It senses the loneliness will continue to haunt it long after it is reunited with the others. The distance is not far from the portal to the place of the others, it can already sense them, bringing solace and belonging to its scattered thoughts.

But it is still confused by the man…by O’Neill. It knows the taste of pain and loss; the fear that emptiness brings. It also knows the healing that comes from unity and aches to help O’Neill, this stranger whom it knows so intimately, to become whole. They are almost there, it can feel the others welcoming him as they reach the crest of the last rise and it sees the others, gladness filling its heart. Their sweet song calls it home and it feels the energy swirling and cascading through the form of the boy it has adopted.

The man stops and they both look own at the others, the deep blue of his kindred vivid against the yellow sand. O’Neill says, “Is there anything we can do for you?” O’Neill looks around the bleak landscape. “Find you a new home?”

It smiles; there is so much it could say, words that would convey a sense of place and belonging that cannot be erased by any act of violence, but it chooses to use instead the phrases it has learned from the man’s kind that somehow expresses all of those emotions. “This is our home,” it replies in the voice of the child, Charlie. “We will be…okay.”

The smile that briefly flashes across O’Neill’s face is a poignant reminder of what was and it feels the faint shimmer of longing that radiates from the man’s dark eyes. The need to finish what it started is still strong within and when it feels O’Neill’s grip loosen, it tightens its small fingers around the man’s hand.

“I have learned much from you and I would do one last thing for you.”

When O’Neill meets its eyes again with a questioning look on his face, it summons on its flagging reserves to make one last transformation. The expression of guarded wonder on the man’s face is all it needs to see when the transformation occurs and it places one slender, feminine hand over O’Neill’s heart. Eyes almost as blue as the kindred look earnestly into O’Neill’s and its smile is tender. “I could not bring Charlie to you, but there is one who has the power to heal you, if you will open your heart.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s the first one he sees when he comes through the Stargate. Relief fills her eyes and her smile is as blinding as the yellow sands of the planet he’s just left. Jack stumbles, not sure if it’s some residual effect from the whole crystal thing or the dizzying array of emotions still running through him. He thinks it’s from the revelation given to him on the planet, but before he can gather his scattered thoughts, his team surrounds him.

Sam’s hand is on his arm, steadying him. He feels the stronger, larger arm that can only belong to Teal’c fasten firmly around him.

“O’Neill,” Teal’c rumbles, “are you injured?”

“Jack, what happened?”

That’s Daniel and he thinks only Daniel would ask that question first, over everything else.

“Sir, are you okay?”

He looks at her again, the relief that was in her eyes replaced with concern.

“I’m fine.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Fraiser squirms her way through the people surrounding him, her touch is calm and professional, her eyes traveling astutely over him.

“I’m fine. Really,” he adds, just to convince her. But she of course doesn’t believe him and he’s swept off to the infirmary. He knows his team is following after him, he can hear their footsteps, hear their hushed conversation.

“I’ll let you know when you can see him,” Fraiser says. Her voice is firm and Jack looks back over his shoulder at his team and gives a helpless shrug before they disappear from view.

Once he’s safely ensconced in Fraiser’s domain, the exam is so routine and familiar that he lets his thoughts drift. His blood pressure is taken, temperature measured, heart listened to and the ever-inevitable needles and blood letting commences. He knows all of the events in the preceding twenty-four hours haven’t all sunk in and he thinks that maybe once it does, he’s liable to crash and burn, haunted by what happened before and the tantalizing dreams of what could have been.

He knows and accepts that the gaping wound left in his heart by Charlie’s death will never completely heal. There are few constants in life, and his role in his son’s death and the surrounding pain is one of them, an infection that slowly festers beneath the surface, never completely healing. He’s been safe, isolated and mired in his grief and pain, drifting away from anyone and anything. He drifted away from Sara, the chasm now too deep and wide to ever heal and while he’s filled with a fond sadness for all they once shared, he’s not filled with despair or the more self-destructive desires that once dominated his shattered existence.

If anything, he feels exposed now, his protective cover ripped away by his encounter with the crystal entity and its naïve desire to heal him. He’s been content with his life, or at least accepting of his self-imposed solitude, sure that it is all that he deserves. Until now…until those last dizzying moments when the crystal entity had transformed from his lost son to a woman so far from his reach that she might as well not exist.

The nurse eventually leaves, the curtains around his bed fluttering with her departure, and Jack lies down on the bed, closing his eyes and shutting out the controlled chaos of the busy infirmary. His thoughts are in chaos; he tries to convince himself that he knows better than to go down this path and his conscience agrees, telling him that the risks are too great while his traitorous heart reminds him that some risks are worth any price. His lips twitch in a half-smile, he has a reputation as a risk-taker, hence his whole involvement in one of the more insane—and perilous—programs on the planet so he finds it amusing that he’s actually trying to talk himself out of yet one more suicide mission.

“How is he? Can we see him?” Daniel again, just beyond the curtains.

“Is he okay? He’s not having some kind of delayed reaction to his encounter with the crystal?”

Sam’s voice is low, but he still hears her clearly and he wonders what she would say if she knew how close she was in her assessment. He’s having a reaction all right, delayed or not. Knowing Fraiser has no good reason to keep them away, Jack sits up, swings his legs over the side of the bed and waits.

“I’ll know more once we get all the test results back. But for now…” Fraiser pulls the curtains back, almost getting trampled by his team in their haste to reach his side. “You can see him.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the days and months that follow their encounter with the crystal entities, Jack watches her. Not that he didn’t watch her before, but it’s different now. He’s planning a campaign and since he’s general and soldier all in one, he starts by gathering intel. And he bides his time, even though everything in him screams to move faster, he doesn’t want to make any mistakes. This of course means he has time to make some big ones, the biggest one taking the cake—literally. Cake, drugs and alien faux-marriages aside, she remains steadfast and loyal. He’d like to think it’s because of him, though he’s realistic enough to concede that it’s more than likely her loyalty to the team. But that doesn’t deter him.

Even death doesn’t stop him, plural or singular, for very long anyway. But he refuses to take advantage of her when they’re both mourning, even though it would have been so easy to find temporary solace in one another’s arms. He wants more that with her, demands more than that. So when Daniel dies for the third time—Teal’c is keeping count it seems—he mourns and then rejoices with her when Daniel returns.

He learns how to push her buttons and pretty much pushes them all at the same time when Hathor uses her feminine wiles and alien mojo to befuddle them all. He’s proud of her, she remains true to form and saves all their asses. And he doesn’t mind when he gets ribbed by some of the other all-male teams, because he knows they’re just jealous that she belongs to him.

Yeah…that’s how he thinks of her now…as his. Male chauvinist or whatever, he doesn’t really care. He doesn’t try too hard to analyze his feelings for her. Perhaps it’s just lust, easily slaked with a night or two of passion that fades just as the night fades into day. But he quit lying to himself after he returned from Abydos the first time, so he knows it’s so much more complex than simple physical infatuation.

She’s beautiful, but beneath the beauty is a brain that is razor sharp and while he’s no dummy, she is way, way smarter than him. Hell, she’s way smarter than most everyone on base. She’s had to work harder than the men surrounding her to achieve what she has, she’s tough and she’s a fighter. But beneath it he also knows she’s a woman, full of compassion and with a heart big enough to love an alien child. He figures it also doesn’t hurt that she has a soft spot for the lunatic fringe. He’s not going to examine whatever ‘it’ is too closely, he’s just going to accept that she calls to him as no other woman has since before Sara and he wants to warm himself with her fire.

Later he wonders if her constant presence led him down the path of complacency because he really thought he had learned that lesson with Charlie’s death. So it comes as a huge shock to him when, after the Tollan leave, Daniel casually drops the bomb of Narim’s infatuation with Sam…and the kiss. Jack’s always considered himself to be an enlightened kind of guy, but the thought of her with another man is a knife ripping into his heart; he’s sure he can feel the blood draining out of him. He knows he has no claim on her beyond the tenuous relationship forged by their common experiences and an awareness that remains unspoken but that doesn’t change how he feels.

It’s only after this, when he’s forced to acknowledge that there are other men who want her just as much he does, that he decides he’s watched and waited long enough. He knows the essence of Sam Carter, he knows her strengths and her weaknesses, and he will use every bit of that knowledge to his advantage. Just as soon as they get back from P4A-771.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’s so cold, he’s so tired and it’s so hard to breathe that he can barely rouse himself, but he knows there’s something important he needs to say to her. Something he needs to tell her before she gets of out radio range...and before he dies. Somehow he finds the strength to key the radio, his fingers numb from the cold and he mumbles, “Sam?”

“Yes, sir?”

She sounds winded but her voice is still strong. There’s so much he wants to tell her, intended to tell her once they were home from this mission. He wants to tell her that he respects her…admires her…loves her. But he doesn’t want to make her leaving anymore difficult than it already is, so he tells her what he can, and what she’ll accept. “It was an honor serving with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

The radio goes silent and he has to imagine the look on her face and he chooses to see her with that slightly self-conscious grin she gets when she’s complimented. She never takes those kinds of compliments for granted and he wonders if one day he’ll know why even a simple thank-you means so much to her. He coughs, the pain ripping through his side and he chokes on the phlegm, barely able to turn his head and spit out the blood-stained spittle. With incredible effort he moves his hand again and wipes at his mouth with fingers he can barely control, trembling with the effort, his hand falling weakly to his chest. It hurts to breathe and he struggles not to panic, finally settling into an uneasy truce with his dying body.

He’s never been the self-sacrificing type, he’s too selfish of a bastard, but this is one time when he really hopes Sam makes it, whether he does or not. He knows he’s hurt bad, he’s had serious injuries before but never like this, never with so little hope of rescue. And a few months earlier he would have been resigned to his fate, accepted it even. But not now, not when he has so much to live for…not when he has someone to live for. It must be an indication of how far he’s gone that he wants her happy, just as long as she’s alive. The last time he prayed was when Charlie was in the emergency room, but he prays now and he prays for her.

Jack doesn’t remember much after that. He thinks he dreams; random faces and images fill his mind. His parents…his college room-mate…his high school sweetheart…Charlie…Sara. He wonders what it will be like to not wake-up. He wonders if there is a heaven and if he’ll be welcome. But above all, he’s cold…so cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Jack realizes is that he’s in an airplane, the familiar vibration and dull roar oddly comforting, if not confusing, his fuzzy thoughts can’t quite reconcile his last location with his current. He’s also warm, the icy numbness and bitter ache from the cold no longer stealing away his life. Sam must’ve gotten help, though there’s a vague memory he can’t quite remember…or maybe it was a dream. He slowly opens his eyes, thankful that the light is dim, because it still hurts and he squints, seeing the reassuring dull gray of the fuselage. He looks down his body, he’s bundled up like a papoose, the gray blankets matching the interior of the plane. He’s strapped into some kind of stretcher, an IV hanging over his head and he cringes when he thinks about what other tubes must be coming out of him.

He tries to take a deep breath, but the quick twinge of pain reminds him that while he may be out of the ice cavern, he’s still injured. Leg still broken, though feeling somewhat more stable than previously; there’s a new ache along with the old ache in his chest that he can’t quite place, but figures it has something to do with his broken ribs because while he can’t take a deep breath, he acknowledges the whole process of breathing is easier. He’s also curiously relaxed and wonders briefly what kind of pain killers they’ve doped him with; it’s not an unpleasant sensation, compared to where he was previously anyway.

From where his stretcher is anchored, he can’t see much and he cranes his neck and looks around…looking for her. He see’s a familiar figure, huddled on a bench along one side of the plane, wrapped in a blanket. He opens his mouth and tries to call her name, but all that comes out is an unintelligible croak and he clears his throat and tries again, “Sam.”

Her head shoots up immediately and before he can say anything else, she’s at his side. “I’m right here.”

“You made it work.”

She gets an odd look on her face, one he hasn’t seen for a long time and she looks down. “Not exactly.”

“Jack! You’re awake.”

He’s really confused now when Hammond’s round face appears over Sam’s shoulder, quickly followed by Daniel and Teal’c.

“You two had us worried, son.”

“You’re going to be okay now, Jack,” Daniel adds.

“We are on our way back to the SGC, O’Neill.”

None of it makes any sense to him, returning to the SGC by plane? Jack looks at Sam again, her eyes are huge in her pale face, dark smudges of fatigue and stress still under her eyes. “Sam?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she whispers.

“There’ll be plenty of time for explanations, son,” Hammond says. “You just rest now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack murmurs. A much different kind of fear claws at him, something’s wrong and he feels helpless in its grip. He hears the more strident beep from what can only be a medical monitor and an unfamiliar woman in a blue flight suit appears at his side, fussing and adjusting tubes and lines. He hears her murmur something and simultaneously feels the warm flush of medicine flowing through his vein. She’s given him something and he struggles vainly, trying to see Sam…desperate to understand.

But all he can see is Hammond, who shoos Daniel and Teal’c away. He vaguely hears Daniel talking nonsense about two Stargates and Teal’c’s lower rumbles in reply. Sam slips away too; and as he’s forced to give in to the drug, he sees her pull the blanket back around her and look his direction one last time before turning her back and slumping against the bulkhead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He doesn’t see her again. They arrive at the SGC in a whirlwind of activity, Fraiser is at her tyrannical best and before Jack knows it, weeks have passed, his days filled with physical therapy and rehab. It’s almost two weeks into their return before he finally hears the whole story. Daniel spends the better part of one afternoon regaling him with the incredible story. Two Stargates on Earth, who’d have thought?

When he asks about Sam, Daniel won’t meet his eyes. She’s recovering, is all he says and Jack doesn’t press him for what remains unsaid.

When Jack’s finally discharged he thought he’d be glad. And he is, in a way. Sleeping in his own bed is a damn sight better than any hospital. His chest only twinges mildly now, that along with his healing leg, the only reminders of their most recent adventure. His broken leg, now sporting a shiny new metal rod running through it to fix the fracture, is almost as good as new and he chafes at the restrictions until his current therapist and Fraiser are satisfied with his progress.

He’s still on crutches and he negotiates his way slowly and carefully through his house, standing at the living room window. The bright sun, blue sky, green grass and tress are a sharp contrast to his most recent surroundings. But as nice as it is to be home, something is still missing. He doesn’t know why she’s staying away. Her absence has gone beyond what he thought they had as a team, as colleagues and—at least in his mind—something more.

Jack’s on the verge of saying to hell with his restriction against driving and makes his way to the front door and grabs his car keys, he’ll get to Sam’s house somehow, when he’s saved by Daniel’s car pulling into his driveway. He’s out the door as fast as his crutches and gimpy leg will carry him; fast enough that Daniel is barely out of the car before he’s across his porch and hobbling down the walk.

To his credit, Daniel folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the car. “Going somewhere, Jack?”

“Take me to Sam’s house,” he snaps in his best ‘I am the Colonel and you must obey me’ voice.

Daniel merely raises an eyebrow, clearly not impressed and Jack readies himself for an argument when Daniel says, “Okay.”

Moving with more speed than is probably wise on uneven cement, Jack makes his way to the passenger side, shoving his crutches into the car. He shrugs off Daniel’s helping hand and with more luck than agility, falls into the front seat. Again, Daniel merely raises his other eyebrow and carefully closes the door while Jack fastens his seatbelt.

“So,” Daniel says once he’s in the car. “Any particular reason you want to go to Sam’s?”

Jack glances at Daniel, the other man has his face turned, backing out of the driveway and he considers how to reply. None of your damn business? Just want to check on a team member? Because I miss her and can’t go another day without seeing her?

When they reach the street, Daniel pauses before putting the car in gear, his bland expression at odds with the amused gleam in his eyes. “Just curious.”

“Haven’t seen her since we got back.” Jack shrugs, striving for nonchalance. “Just thought I’d check on her.”

Daniel nods and wisely chooses to stay silent on the subject of why he wants to see Sam. Even while it arouses his suspicion, Jack appreciates his unexpected disinterest. He looks out the window, barely seeing the passing scenery, while Daniel begins a casual monologue to which he only half listens. Daniel’s question does have merit, he better have some reason kind of answer for Sam when he shows up on her doorstep.

“Here we are.”

Jack comes out of his daze and looks around. Sam’s neighborhood is nice, her house looks neat and tidy, just like her. “Thanks, Daniel,” he says, releasing the seatbelt and fishing around for his crutches.

“Do you want me to wait?”

Jack pauses, half in and half out of the car, crutches in hand and considers the question. He has no idea whether she’s home or not, and even if she is, will she let him in? He doesn’t think she’ll turn him away and he’s not above using his current condition to engender her sympathy. “Thanks for the offer,” he says, “but I’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, Jack.”

Jack ignores Daniel’s grin and slams the car door shut, carefully making his way up the front walk and onto her porch. When Daniel doesn’t drive off right away, he feels like a little kid whose parent is waiting to make sure everything is okay before leaving. Balancing on one crutch, Jack raps firmly on her front door and waits. He thinks he waits a reasonable length of time before he knocks again and for the first time since he decided to embark on this unplanned mission, he wonders if maybe he should have called first. But then he hears the faint sound of footsteps and then the louder sound of locks being turned and the door swings open.

She takes his breath away. He thinks he should be more subtle as his eyes rove hungrily over her, but it feels like years instead of just weeks since he last saw her. She looks good, her face is healed and she looks like she’s gotten some sun, but it doesn’t hide the lingering shadows under her eyes. She’s wearing jeans and a soft blue sweater that clings to her curves and her feet are bare. He thinks this might be the first time he’s seen her dressed so casually and when his eyes finally meet hers he catches the brief flash of awareness in their blue depths before it disappears and is replaced with caution.

“Sir.” Her voice is soft. “What are you doing here?”

“May I come in?” He shifts his weight, adding a slight wince and he sees when concern wins over her caution.

“Yes, of course,” she says, stepping back.

In the distance, Jack hears Daniel drive away when he steps through her door. She doesn’t say anything and he follows her down the hallway, his crutches sound unnaturally loud on the wooden floor. He walks slowly, not so much because of his injury but because he’s curious about her house…about her. The neat and tidy interior reinforces his first impressions, though he senses a certain sterility that tells him while she lives her, it really isn’t her home yet. But there is still an innate essence that is all Sam Carter.

She leads him to a room that is slightly less tidy than the rest of the house. He’d categorize it as more of a family room, there’s a fireplace against one wall, a sofa and several matching over-stuffed chairs. There’s a colorful afghan that looks handmade draped carelessly on the couch and an open book placed face down on the coffee table next to a can of diet pop. There’s not a computer in sight.

When she sits down the sofa, he bypasses the closest chair, swinging on his crutches around the coffee table and sinks down onto the far end of the sofa. “How’s your leg, sir?” she asks as he gingerly rests his injured leg on the coffee table, his lower leg still wrapped with an elastic bandage and his foot covered with a sock several times too large to accommodate the bandage.

“Healing just fine, or so they tell me.”

“Good,” she murmurs. “I was worried….”

Her voice trails off and Jack knows where her thoughts have gone, back to the icy crevasse when she had to splint his leg. “You did good, Sam,” he says, wanting to reassure her. But instead of the shy look of pleasure he’s used to seeing when she receives a compliment, she pales, looking sad and uncertain.

“I mean it,” he says. “You kept going, you kept us alive.”

“I gave up.”

Jack frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“I…ah…,” he stammers a bit, before finally admitting. “No, not all of it. I remember you going to get help.” He also remembers saying goodbye, but he doesn’t tell her that. “And I remember being cold.”

Something else flashes briefly in her eyes then, a shadow of pain and longing that he doesn’t understand. Her voice is soft when answers. “When I made it to the top of the crevasse, all I could see was endless ice and snow as far as the horizon and I gave up. I didn’t even try to see if there was anything else out there.”

He’s never seen her like this, but he should have known the scientist in her would feel responsible—whether she was or not. “Sam, you thought we were on another planet.” It’s as simple as that for him. “And besides,” he adds, “the closest base is fifty miles from where they found us. You never would have made it.”

“I didn’t even try.” She curls up on the sofa, tugging the afghan over her bare toes. “I gave up and came back down the crevasse. To die.”

She doesn’t add the ‘with you’, but Jack can see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. “But we didn’t.”

Her lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile before quickly fading and he senses there’s something more, something she isn’t telling him. “I don’t remember much after you left,” he confesses. “I was pretty out of it.” He remembers his body’s unbidden reaction to her the first time he woke, cold and in pain, to find her curled up next to him, sharing her warmth. It’s a long shot, given what he’s been told of his condition when they were rescued, but he asks anyway. “Did I…do something?”

He sees the answer in her eyes before she looks away, her nervousness betrayed when she toys with the fringe on the afghan. He shifts closer and places his hand over hers, the restless movement of her fingers stops and she sighs.

“Sam?”

She looks at him, a sad sort of acceptance in her eyes. “You thought I was Sara.”

The memory comes back in a cold rush. Her soft weight pressed against his side, sharing her fading warmth, her face pressed into his hollow of his throat. He doesn’t know now why he said Sara’s name; he was cold, confused and disoriented, he thinks maybe under those circumstances he’s allowed to confuse the safety and security he once found with his ex-wife with the safety and security he now feels with Sam. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t longing for his ex-wife; however the most reasonable explanation, given the circumstances, is he didn’t know what he was saying.

All of it or none of it might be true, he really can’t be sure. But he’s always been a practical sort of guy and what he does know is that Sara is his past and the woman sitting next to him is his future.

All that remains is convincing her.

“Do you remember back when we went to the planet with the blue crystals?” She nods, if she’s confused by his abrupt change of subject, she doesn’t show it. “You know why the entity took my form?”

She nods again. “It wanted to…heal you.”

His hand still rests over hers and he wraps his fingers around hers. “Yes. It sensed something…inside me.” He gestures with his free hand towards his chest, “That needed to be healed.”

“And did it?”

“It showed me that my son is still here.” He tightens his grip and lifts her hand, placing it over his heart.

“Is that all?” she whispers.

A faint light starts to shine in her sad eyes and the heavy weight around his heart starts to melt until all he wants to do at that moment is pull her into his arms and kiss her until they’re both breathless; the desolation in her eyes has disappeared and he can’t look away. There’s only one way to describe how he feels, it’s an old fashioned phrase and he’s afraid it will sound corny, but he can’t think of any better words to use. However beyond that, it’s his truth and it’s time to share it.

“No…it showed me who holds the key to my heart,” he finally says, his voice rough with emotion. “It showed me you.”

When she tugs gently on the hand still over his heart, he reluctantly lets it go and prepares for the big let down. But it doesn’t come, instead her hand glides slowly up to his face and she shifts, facing him now, both hands cradling his face and he waits breathlessly as her face draws closer to his.

Jack’s eyes close in a rush of relief and pleasure when her lips meet his, tentative at first and then with growing confidence. It’s sweet, tender and brimming with passion and he’s long past caring about the rights and wrongs of a relationship with someone in his command. Those are details that can be sorted out later; right now the only thing that matters is her. When her lips leave his, he takes a deep breath, fighting the overwhelming need to pull her into his arms and plunder her mouth. But he doesn’t, there will be time for that and for now he’s content.

Her eyes glitter brightly and her smile is tender when she says, “That’s a big responsibility, holding the key to your heart.”

Jack grins, a warmth that has nothing to do with the ambient room temperature spreads through him. He tugs gently on her hand and she follows his urging, nestling against his side. His arm is around her shoulders, her head rests warmly against his shoulder and she places one slender hand on his chest in a gesture reminiscent of his vague memories of the ice cavern. “I’m not worried,” he says, the last fragments of ice in his heart melting away. “There’s no one in the entire universe I trust it with more than you.”

THE END


End file.
